Harry Potter and the Phoenix's Last Song
by ILN
Summary: After the death of Dumbledore, the Wizarding world is in chaos. McGonagall is barely keeping Hogwarts together, Scrimgeour is barely keeping the Ministry together, and Harry Potter wants nothing to do with either. He sets out on his quest to destroy the f
1. Curses and Corpses

**Chapter 1**

Curses and Corpses

Three men, one no older than seventeen, walked briskly down a long, dark, damp corridor, the cold stone walls decorated only with the occasional torch. They were headed to a confrontation with evil. One of the men was tall and thin, with sallow skin, black, oily hair, and a small beard. He was wearing black robes, a small, black ring on his right hand, and a very satisfied expression. On this man's right, the second man was of average build, with a hard face and graying hair. He was dressed also in similar attire, save the ring. The third of the company walked on the other side of the first, taking quicker steps to keep up with the strides of the other two. He was of average height, although thin as well, with long, sleek white-blond hair. He was wearing black robes as well, but of a different make. They had a small coat of arms sewn on one side, green with a silver snake. There was also, on his collar, a smaller, pinned version, but with a silver _P_ in the middle. They were robes for a school, apparently. He threw a quick, nervous glance up at the bearded man every few steps, but his looks were not returned.

At the very end of this corridor was a dark wooden door, unmarked except for a silver knocker in the shape of a snake's head. The tall, thin man lifted the knocker, and let it fall to the door. Although it hit rather softly, A deep, resonating gong sounded, and the door opened.

The room inside was similar to the corridor, although the only torches were on either side of the door. Set back about five meters from the entrance was a small podium, upon which stood, rather nervously, a short, pudgy man with an expression rather like a rat's. Next to this odd man stood a magnificent throne, made of dark ebony, and embedded with emerald and silver. In this throne sat another man, if he could be called that. Glowing, red, catlike eyes were all that was visible of the being's face, although the three people in front of him knew what lay behind the darkness. Slits for a nose, a thin mouth and those, horrible, evil, red eyes were what comprised the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The visitors knelt.

"You are sure he is dead?" The Dark Lord inquired of the three before him.

"Myself and Draco, plus Amycus, Alecto, and Greyback watched him be hit by the Killing Curse, and fall from the Astronomy Tower," the tall, thin man said. "He is dead, my lord."

Voldemort sat still for a moment, and then let out a satisfied sigh. The rat-like man stopped his nervous shifting of his feet, and stared down at the man who had spoken.

The Dark Lord spoke up. "Well, Draco, I didn't think you had it in you."

Draco Malfoy looked up at Voldemort for the first time in this encounter. He looked into the glowing red eyes, which narrowed, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Th-Thank you, My Lord. It was-"

"Because you didn't." It wasn't a question. "You didn't kill him. You were too cowardly, too weak. I see it in your eyes, now. You will be punished for your incompetence. Not right now, perhaps, but momentarily."

Malfoy looked away in fear and shock, mouth moving, but unable to say anything.

The pudgy, rat-faced man resumed his shifting.

"But, now, a reward must be given to whomever did eliminate the old fool." The Dark Lord resumed. "Was it you, Yaxley? No. I doubt you would dare. You wouldn't want to disobey me. You always were a stickler to the rules, even in your Hogwarts days. "

The brutal-faced, former Ravenclaw Death Eater's hard features crumbled into a slightly put-out look.

"Ah, Snape." Voldemort shifted his attention to the man in the middle, who had spoken first.

Snape said nothing, but looked into Voldemort's eyes with a sort of resigning look, as though he really didn't want credit for this victory.

"Congratulations, Severus. You went against my orders for the Malfoy boy to kill Dumbledore, and did it yourself."

Still, Snape said nothing.

"I do not like being disobeyed." The Dark Lord raised his wand, and pointed it at Snape.

Snape inhaled sharply. "My Lord-"

"Still, Lord Voldemort rewards those who have done well, and you have done very well indeed. I think a fitting reward would be to have your punishment for disobeying me nullified, don't you?"

Snape relaxed slightly. "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort did not lower his wand. "Still," he said again, and turned his wand to Malfoy.

"_Crucio!"_

The rat-faced man chattered his teeth, and looked away quickly. Snape and Yaxley had no problems forcing themselves not to turn and look at the young man now writhing with pain on the chamber floor. They had both been placed under this curse, as most of Lord Voldemort's followers had. They were both remembering the feeling, the most painful sensation imaginable: Knives piercing every inch of their skin, straight through to their brain and heart, freezing it cold, just wanting to die, for it all to end-

Voldemort raised his wand, and Malfoy's screams subsided. He lay panting on the floor, his robes in a mess around him, and his prized, pristine hair in a tangle.

"You are weak, cowardly. Your father would be ashamed of you if he were here to see this."

Malfoy said nothing, merely lay shaking on the floor in a huddle, his breathing still hard. Wormtail turned around, still shifting, to stare down at the victim on the floor.

"In fact, I do believe your father will be here soon."

Snape looked up. "Azkaban has been liberated?"

Voldemort threw a glare at him. "Remember your place, Severus. Do not speak out of turn. You are lucky I'm in a good mood, otherwise I would have you down there next to Draco. You may have killed the old fool, but do not get cocky."

"I apologize, my Lord." Snape bowed his head.

Voldemort glared for a moment, and then spoke. "Not yet. Soon. There was, however a small breakout, due a spy we have in the Ministry guarding Azkaban. Only three of our people escaped, however, and our spy was only just able to avoid detection. That, in fact brings me to the next point of this little meeting. Wormtail, kindly escort Yaxley and Draco out."

Wormtail hopped down off the podium, and stood by the trio. Yaxley stood up and picked the still-trembling Malfoy up off the floor. "Walk with some dignity, you fool." He snarled in a whisper, the hard look returning to his face. Malfoy refused to make eye contact, but did teeter towards the door. Wormtail started walking very quickly towards the air, with a relieved air about him, as though he was quite happy to leave.

"Oh, and Wormtail?" Voldemort spoke up.

Wormtail stopped, and turned timidly to face him. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Do make sure you return; I wouldn't want you to become lost, roaming the halls."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Bring Bella when you return, as well, this concerns her."

"Yes, my Lord."

Wormtail turned once more, and resumed his walk, although it was with, once again, a nervous and apprehensive air.

They reached the door, and Wormtail opened it with a bow. Yaxley and Malfoy walked out, followed quickly by Wormtail.

As soon as the door shut, Yaxley rounded on Malfoy. "You fool.' He snarled, with a disgusted look on his face. "Didn't Snape warn you not to make eye contact? The Dark Lord is a superb Legilimens, the best of our age. Seeing your mind would be an easy feat."

Awareness seemed to return to Malfoy's face, which turned into a defensive look. "I couldn't help myself, I just felt… compelled…"

"Well, next time, feel a little less compelled, why don't you, you little-"

"Yaxley!"

The three turned to the source of the voice. A woman with long, black, matted hair, and a thin, wasted face stood at the end of the corridor. She walked up to them, and her black eyes met Yaxley's.

"Leave the boy alone, haven't you heard? He's the great wizard who killed Dumbledore." Bellatrix Lestrange said sarcastically.

She glanced at Wormtail, now cowering in a corner, and then turned her attention to Malfoy. "Lucky Snape was there to save your arse, or you'd be dead right now."

Yaxley cocked his head. "How did you know-"

"Alecto told me. She said that Draco was too much of a coward to do it, even though Dumbledore was weak and wandless."

Malfoy said nothing, but simply stared at the ground, still trembling slightly.

"Put you under the Cruciatus, did he?" Bellatrix inquired with a smirk. "I thought so. He doesn't like it when someone doesn't follow through with his orders." She turned back to Yaxley. "Did he do Snape, too?"

"No," replied Yaxley, even though he was looking at Bellatrix rather uneasily. The Dark Lord was too pleased with him, even though Snape was disrespectful."

"Really?" Bellatrix seemed surprised. "He must be happy. I must be in luck…"

"I'm sure he'll be back to his usual self once he sees you, Bella. What does he want to see you about?" Yaxley asked her. "He mentioned liberating Azkaban-"

"Be quiet, you fool!" She exclaimed with a look of extreme impatience. "The Dark Lord's secrets are to be kept, you know that. Tell anyone else, and I'll kill you myself."

"Yes, Yes. Come on, Draco, let's go."

"W-Where are we going?" Malfoy had been silent so far, but suddenly spoke up.

"Well, you need someplace to stay, don't you? You're a wanted man, now. Welcome." Yaxley began walking away, chuckling, so Malfoy hurried after him.

Bellatrix stared after them for a moment, and then turned to the cowering, sniveling Wormtail. "Well, let's go," and entered the room.

Malfoy walked alongside Yaxley, as they traveled down one long, dark corridor after another. He had heard of the tales of the Death Eater days from his father, of course, but now that he was a part of the grand scheme, he found himself wondering how they could do some of the things they did.

True, he had been initially delighted with the task the Dark Lord had set upon him: To kill the Mudblood-lover was every Death Eater's wish, and he, a mere sixteen year old student (well, not any more) had been given the mission.

It had taken him long enough to figure it out: That he had been expected to die trying. It was punishment for his father for failing to take the prophecy. He had only realized it when he found his mother crying, alone in the mansion. He then made it a personal mission to prove the Dark Lord wrong, and prove that he could kill Dumbledore.

That thought didn't last long, as reality hit him over the head like a hammer to a particularly stubborn nail. There was no way he, a mere sixteen year old wizard, could kill Albus Dumbledore! The man was the most powerful wizard alive (save, of course, the Dark Lord). He remembered telling his mother and his aunt that he didn't want to have this task, that he couldn't do it.

"Mother, it's impossible."

"Draco, you must. The Dark Lord has ordered it, it must be done," his mother sniffed. "I just pray that you will find a way."

Bellatrix laughed sinisterly at her sister. "He'll die trying. Ha! Forget Dumbledore, he won't make it past the Longbottom boy."

Narcissa sat in silence while her son and sister argued loudly and angrily with each other. Finally, she spoke.

"Draco, run."

Malfoy stared openmouthed at his mother.

"What?…"

"Just run. Run far from here and go into hiding, so he can't find you."

Bellatrix snorted in disbelief.

"The Dark Lord will find him wherever he goes. If he does run, he'll just kill you instead."

Draco looked at Bellatrix in alarm. "He will? How can he do that? She hasn't done anything!"

Bellatrix looked, once again, at the teenager before her.

"You really think, that he will hesitate to punish you, in any way possible, if you back out? He will kill all your family, anyone close to you. He will hunt you to the ends of the earth- or more likely, send someone else to do it. He did that with my dear traitor of a cousin. I doubt you are important enough to be worth the Dark Lord's time and efforts."

Malfoy just stared at her, as the hammer hit the nail once again.

So, Malfoy had gone along, helpless to do otherwise. It did, however, appear that things were going his way. He had managed to repair the vanishing cabinet and bring several Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He had Dumbledore cornered, but when the time came to just say the words, he found he didn't have the nerve.

The two turned a final corner, and Malfoy found himself looking down a surprisingly well lit corridor, with many doors on both sides. They walked about halfway down the hall, stopping at the fifth door on the right.

"Your mother is in here. She is-"

Malfoy walked past him, and pushed the door open.

The room was, as much of the place was, damp, with stone walls. There were a few hard, wooden-backed chairs around a small, cracked wooden table, upon which sat a lamp, the only source of light. There was another door in the back of the room, which Malfoy assumed led to a bathroom. Against the wall on the left were two beds, upon one of which sat a ragged looking Narcissa Malfoy. Her face was worn and seemingly aged; her silvery hair hung in unkempt strands around her face.

"Draco!"

"Mother."

She jumped up and began to approach her son, but then seemed to acknowledge Yaxley's presence, and stopped.

She assumed a business-like tone and manner. "Leave us, Ruben."

Yaxley slowly backed away, saying before he closed the door, "I'm in the room across the hall, if you need anything, Draco."

The door shut, and Narcissa immediately collapsed into one of the chairs, burying her head in her hands.

"Mother! Are you all right!" Draco sat down in the chair beside his mother's, and looked at her.

"No, Draco. I am not." She looked up, her face worn and seemingly aged. "I've been worrying about you since I heard about the battle from Alecto. She said you had Dumbledore cornered, but didn't kill him, that Snape did."

"I- I couldn't." He looked down. "I couldn't do it. The Dark Lord found out, and he… he punished me."

Narcissa let out a small, anxious sigh, and said, "Then we must go."

Draco looked up at his mother, rather surprised and inquisitive. "What- Where would we- Why?"

She shuddered, and spoke. "The Dark Lord will kill you. He was planning to have you dead, whether by Dumbledore's hand or his own. It is your father's punishment for failure."

She pulled out her wand, and with it, gently traced the snake pattern on one of the table legs. It glowed for a moment, then returned to normal. "Wait for a moment." They sat in silence for about a minute, and then the brass door handle turned. A gloved hand pushed the door open, and the owner of that hand walked into the room.

The mysterious intruder quickly shut the door. Draco couldn't tell who the person was, although physical shape would indicate it was a man. He was fairly tall, and solid. He was wearing a long, black traveling cloak, the hood of which completely covered his face; Draco could only guess how he saw where he was going. His hands were both gloved, and in his right was a wand, although it was pointed down. When he walked, the cloak shifted, and Draco caught a glimpse of a silver dagger in a sheath on the man's side.

"Can we go, now? Is it safe?" Narcissa asked anxiously, jumping up.

The man spoke, in a surprisingly clear, and oddly familiar voice: He had been expecting a low, raspy croak from such a sinister figure. "We're good. Yaxley was hanging around, outside, though, and I had to stun him. I dumped him in his room."

Narcissa's face contorted from a worried into an annoyed expression. "You bloody fool. Now they'll know we've left."

The man approached them, and responded as though he were trying to explain this to a three-year old. "Well, I had to, you would have never got out otherwise. Besides, they'll realized you've escaped as soon as they come for you. They're not going to think you've gone for a walk or something innocent – after all, what the hell is there to see around here anyway?" He laughed bitterly.

Narcissa glared, and then walked towards the door in the back of the room, which Draco had previously assumed had led to a bathroom. He was proven wrong, however, as the door opened to reveal yet another dark chamber. Narcissa walked quickly into it, and Draco followed, warily.

The mysterious stranger followed them in, and closed the door behind him. Draco wasn't quite sure what to think of this man. On one hand, he was helping them escape what would seem to be certain death. On the other, he still didn't know who exactly this strange man was, and therefore didn't know if he could be trusted. However, deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he decided to follow the man's lead.

The chamber they were now in, also illuminated by a single torch, was very cramped, they had little room to move without touching each other, or burning themselves on the torch.

"Hurry, do it!" Narcissa nearly shouted.

The man pointed his wand at the high ceiling, and said, _"Subiungo!"_ A long cord shot out of the wand, and straight through the ceiling.

"Hold on to me," the man said.

Narcissa, and Draco after a moment's hesitation both grabbed the man around the waist.

With a cry of _"Volo!"_, the three flew towards the ceiling, and with a gasp from Draco, right through it as well.

"_Abscido,"_ the man muttered, and the line cut as they hovered a few feet above the floor of what appeared to be a landing of a very long stairwell. The three dropped to the floor, but they all managed to remain standing.

"Come on," the man said, hurrying up the stairs. The other two followed quickly.

As they climbed, their pace quickened, and after an eternity, they reached a final landing. There was a solid wooden door set against a wall some twenty feet back. The man was now running towards it, and as he ran, he shouted, _"Alohomora!"_

The door sprang open, and the three ran out into the night. They sprinted across the rooftop to where two broomsticks waited on the edge of the castle walls. Narcissa and Draco immediately jumped on, but the man shouted, "Wait!" The two stopped, and the stranger said, "I'll disillusion you."

After a hard rap on the head apiece, Narcissa and Draco turned.

"Take care, Narcissa," the man said.

Narcissa turned her head, even though the man couldn't see her. 'You, too."

And the two Malfoys took off into the cool night air, and zoomed away from the Castle of Slytherin.

Far away in the North Sea, two muggle fishermen in a small boat were having quite an exciting day.

"Jack, I got me another one!" Bill Gibson had just hooked his twelfth catch of the day.

"Lord almighty, Bill, yer beating me by three already!" His older brother was quite put out.

"It'll be that special bait tha' Fletcher bloke sold us. It works like magic!"

Jack just rolled his eyes.

"This- one- just- don'- want- to- COME- IN!" Bill's catch didn't seem to want to surrender. "Help me out here, Jack."

"Alright, but I get credit for this one too." Jack replied in a business-like tone.

"Yeah, yeah, jus' help me out here!"

Jack grabbed the pole in the middle, and held it still, with quite some difficulty. "Go on, hurry up, reel it in!"

"I'm- tryin'- here it comes… OH MY GOD!" Both brothers dropped the pole.

"Good Lord… that's a body!"

For sure enough, Bill's catch was a middle-aged man, with a bald head and deep, sunken eyelids, who was quite clearly dead.

Jack was staring at it with a look of shock. "What in blazes is a body doin' out here!"

"Maybe it was murder!" Bill looked at his brother in awe.

"Now don' git all excited, Bill, it's prob'ly jus' some poor bloke who fell off his boat and drowned."

"Well- w-we should report it, shouldn't we? Jack?" Bill looked to his brother.

"How on earth are we goin' to find it again?" Jack asked? "No, we should bring it in ourselves."

"I ain't putting that thing in the boat with us! This boat ain't that big, it's gonna be touchin' us!"

Jack stared down at the, thinking. "Grab some rope, we'll tie 'im to the back and tow 'im in."

Bill didn't move, but kept staring at the body.

"Come on, boy, hop to it!" Jack exclaimed.

"Why don't you do it?" Bill retorted, obviously not wanting to touch the body.

"'Cause the rope's on your side."

Bill grimaced, then took the rope and fashioned a loop. "Where should I tie it?"

Jack looked at his brother with a look that quite plainly said that he was trying his patience.

"I don't know, 'round it's neck?"

"What if 'is head pops off?"

"'Is head ain't gonna pop off."

"I'll tie it 'round 'is hands."

"Now, they might pop off."

"Then, where am I gonna tie it!"

Jack grabbed the rope impatiently from his brother, and lowered the loop carefully around the body's torso. The body shifted slightly, in the small waves of the sea, and one of the hands touched Jack's arm. He inhaled sharply, but quickly tightened the rope. He was just about finished reinforcing the poor knot that his brother had made, when the other hand shifted, and came to rest on Jack's other arm. Jack let out a small gasp, and froze.

"Jack? Wha's goin' on?…" Bill had backed up as best he could in the little dinghy.

"Nothin', it's jus' the waves." Jack tried to sound calm, but the panic was evident in his voice. He finished tying the knot, and carefully moved to sit back in the boat.

Suddenly, the hands of the corpse grabbed Jack's arms, and the eyelids opened wide to reveal deep, black, empty spheres for eyes.

Bill let out a shriek, and toppled back off his seat, nearly tipping the boat. Jack tried to scream, but found he couldn't make a sound, he couldn't move, all he could do was stare into the black beads of the corpse, and plead silently to be let go.

All around the boat, heads began to slowly emerge from the water. Men, women, children, elderly: All had the same black, empty eyes, and were white as a sheet. The early morning fog gave their skin an oddly translucent gleam, but this was overlooked by the two petrified fishermen. All they saw were the eyes, and as they drew closer, they saw their doom.

Hands emerged from the water around the boat, and it was slowly pulled under. And still, Jack couldn't break the grasp, or the stare of the body that held him tight.

The boat continued to be drawn below the surface, with the two fishermen still inside paralyzed by fear, until all that was left above the surface was Jack's head.

Finally, he managed to open his mouth, and let out an unearthly scream; the scream of a man who knew he was about to die.


	2. Home for the Holidays

Home for the Holidays

**Chapter 2**

Home for the Holidays

"This one right ahead on the left," Harry said, directing Hermione's father. Mr. Granger and his wife had picked the three teenagers up at King's Cross, and was driving them to Harry's home in Surrey. Ron and Hermione had insisted on staying with Harry wherever he went for the summer, most likely, Harry thought, to make sure he didn't do something rash.

Harry didn't particularly want to return to the Dursleys's ever again, but Dumbledore had wanted him to, to renew the protection that surrounded their house. Harry sighed at the thought of Dumbledore. He never thought he would see the end of the old man. If Sirius had been a father figure, Dumbledore was more the grandfather. Always there with advice, he had a way of commanding respect with a gentle manner. He was one of the only people Harry had trusted in the past year. And now he was gone.

Mr. Granger's car turned into the Dursleys's driveway. Harry had thought it best if Hermione's parents had dropped them off. For one, they were muggles, so the Dursleys would be more likely to reason better with them, instead of throwing ceramic ornaments. For another thing, they were the only ones with a car, seeing as how Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia was still roaming the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione's parents were quite different. Mr. Granger was always making jokes, and seemed like one to find the humor in any situation. He was, however, very protective. On the way out of the station, they had been approached by Moody and Kingsley and they had pulled Harry, Ron, and Hermione aside. They had just wanted to tell them that the Order of the Phoenix was still reachable, but Mr. Granger had not recognized the rather sinister looking old man with the bowler hat, or the tall black man with the earring. He had jumped at Moody and tried unsuccessfully to tackle him, but would not relent until Hermione had shouted that it was okay. Even Kingsley's deep, normally calming voice had not had its usual effect.

Mrs. Granger, on the other hand, was much like Hermione. She was one to fret about breaking the rules. She was very intelligent, and very persuasive. She was the one who had talked to the muggle police officers who had come and dragged her husband and Moody off, and was on the verge of convincing them to let them go, when Moody had simply pulled out his wand, stunned the officers, and memory charmed them. Moody had obviously seen the similarities between the two, for he had said just that of Mrs. Granger's annoyed badgering of him after he had freed himself and Mr. Granger.

Neither of them had been extraordinarily happy with Hermione's decision to stay with Harry and Ron for the summer instead of them. In fact, they had outright refused, but after Hermione told them there was no way of persuading her to do otherwise, they consented. They had told Harry that Hermione had told them about how being around him was potentially very dangerous. Harry didn't know quite what to say about this confrontation, but then they had told him that they trusted him, and they knew their daughter wouldn't do anything stupid and his nerves had eased slightly.

The five of them climbed out of the car, and walked up the front path to the house. The sun was just starting to set.

"Um," started Harry, "Maybe it would be better if it were just me and Mr. Granger at first. Too many people might just agitate them."

"Oh, good point," said Ron. He was the only one who had met the Dursleys before, and his past dealings with them were not exactly happy ones, although they were quite mild compared to Harry's experience.

Mrs. Granger looked surprised. "Agitate?…"

The other three moved out of sight, off the porch and behind the hedgerow. Harry rung the bell, and they heard Vernon Dursley's voice.

"Coming, coming." He opened the door a second later, and glared down at his nephew with disdain. "Oh. It's just you. I thought your freaky school didn't let out for a few weeks, yet. Or did they expel you?" He added hopefully. He looked at Mr. Granger for the first time. "Who are you?" He asked rudely.

"I'm Dr. Peter Granger," Mr. Granger said warmly, extending his hand.

Vernon stared for a second without shaking his hand, and then said "I didn't think your kind had doctors."

"Mr. Granger isn't a wizard, Uncle Vernon, he's a dentist. His daughter is a friend of mine from Hog-"

"Shut up, you fool boy! Talking about that rubbish at the top of your voice out in the open where anyone can hear you, it's a wonder you're still alive, with those brains of yours. I'd have expected you to walk into traffic with your mouth open, staring at the sky," said Uncle Vernon. He turned his attention back to Mr. Granger, with a more relaxed air, but by no means welcoming. "Well then, thank you for saving us a trip to London to pick him up," Vernon jerked his head at Harry, "but I'm afraid I must-"

"Ahhhh! Mum! Dad!" Vernon was interrupted by his son's yell of fright. Dudley had apparently come around from behind the house, evidently trying to get away without any wizards who might have accompanied Harry seeing him. He had come around the hedgerow, and walked straight into Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Granger. "There's more of them here!"

Vernon grabbed a baseball bat from the umbrella stand, pushed past Harry and Mr. Granger, and ran down the steps as fast as his short legs could take him. "What the hell game are you playing, boy, trying to sneak more of your kind in?"

"Uncle Vernon, no!"

Harry started after his uncle, but Vernon had reached the other three, who were still standing there, not quite knowing what to do. Ron was standing there with a shocked look on his face, and Mrs. Granger looked terrified as Vernon charged them, bat raised. He made to swing, but Hermione discreetly raised her wand, hidden from the street (and Muggle eyes) by Ron's frozen body, and whispered, _"Immobulus!"_

Vernon froze right before he was about to swing at Ron, and Hermione quickly took the bat from him with a summoning charm. Dudley let out a short scream, and ran off. Mrs. Granger stared in fright and shock. "Agitate, indeed…"

Harry had stopped just short of them when his uncle had been frozen in place, but then whispered to the back of his uncle's head, "She'll take it off you, but you can't attack them, or try anything at all."

Vernon couldn't move, but he let out a groan of what Harry assumed to be submission. He looked at Hermione, who released Vernon from the spell. His reaction was immediate. "What did you think you were doing, you fool of a girl, what if the neighbors saw!"

"They didn't see anything, Mr. Dursley, there's no one around," Hermione said in an angry voice. "Although, you didn't seem too concerned with what the neighbors would think of seeing you beat three people with a baseball bat in your own front lawn."

Vernon sputtered angrily, spit flying out over Hermione, Ron, and Mrs. Granger.

"Come on," Harry said. "Let's go inside and discuss how things are going to be around here for the next week or so." Hermione and Ron pushed past a still shocked Vernon, and Mrs. Granger nervously skittered around him as well. Vernon slowly turned around and then said, "What do you mean, how things are going to be? This is my house, boy, and don't you forget it!"

The four of them just walked back to the end of the walk where Mr. Granger was standing, however, and Harry showed them into the house.

Although Ron had been inside the Dursleys's house before, it was Hermione's first visit. "Wow," she said. "It's even cleaner than ours." True enough, Number 4, Privet Drive was as spotless as ever.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry called. No answer.

Harry walked into the living room and over to one of the perfectly cleaned couches and sat down. "Go ahead, have a seat," he said.

Ron and Hermione sat down on the couch next to him, and Hermione's parents sat on the smaller couch.

Vernon came storming in through the front door, he had evidently regained the use of his legs. "What do you think gives you the right to say what goes on in MY house, boy? You ungrateful little…" He continued in this vein for about a minute. Harry just sat calmly, although his temper did quickly rise when his uncle reached the topic of his parents. Hermione and Ron tensed, as though they were ready to grab Harry should he charge his uncle. The Grangers just sat, scandalized by Vernon Dursley's extensive swear words vocabulary, and the level of hostility he was willing to show towards his nephew.

Mrs. Granger opened her mouth to speak, but her husband silenced her. "Let them deal with it," he said, motioning to the three sitting on the other couch.

Just as Vernon was finishing, there was a loud thump on the window, and everybody in the room jumped. Harry jumped up and ran to the window. He opened it and looked down. There, in the same spot he had lain two summers prior, was a tawny owl with a letter tied to its leg, lying unconscious on the ground. Harry reached out of the window, picked it up, and turned around to find his uncle's beet-red face inches from his own. "OWLS! I'M SICK OF ALL THESE BLASTED OWLS!"

Harry ducked around him and went back to his seat on the couch. The owl was lying still in his hands. He put it in his lap, took the letter off its leg, and groaned at the Ministry of Magic seal. While Vernon continued his rant, Harry opened it, and read in disbelief:

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

_London_

_Mr. Potter,_

_At approximately 7:10 this evening, an immobilizing charm was detected at your place of residence. This charm was detected to have been placed, not only in possible full view of muggles, but on a muggle. This is a level 3 security breach, and as such, you are to be placed on a one-month magic suspension, to begin on your seventeenth birthday. For that time, you are not allowed to perform magic, or voluntarily interact with any and all magical objects, or visit any magical locations other than your place of residence, and those places required for your place of employment, if applicable. If this reprimand is violated, you will be summoned before the Wizengamot._

_Mr. Potter, I have written more letters to you, and seen the indicator light flash on your house more times than I would ever care to. The running joke around the office is we can use it as a lamp. You may be legal in one month, but if you commit the smallest infraction, your wand is mine, I don't care if you are the Chosen One._

_Sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

Harry read the letter again, torn between anger at the confusion of the Ministry, and amusement at Mafalda Hopkirk personifying her letter, which before had all been very business-like.

"Harry, mate, what's that all about? Is Scrimgeour trying to get you to do something for him again?" Ron asked.

Harry looked from the letter, and said, "No, they're suspending my right to do magic when I turn legal."

"WHAT!" Ron, Hermione, and Vernon all said at once.

"For what!"

"It wasn't that charm, was it?"

"Ooh, boy, you're in trouble again!"

They all spoke at once, and Harry waved them off, which just set Vernon off on another rant about the lack of discipline in the magical world, if they taught students to disrespect their elders. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, while Hermione's parents still watched Vernon with a shocked and nervous look on their faces. "Yeah, it was."

"What? They can't do that, that was Hermione, she's allowed, she's seventeen." Ron said confusedly.

A look of realization had crossed Hermione's face, however. "Oh… They can't tell who did it…"

"Right, that's what… Dumbledore… told me last year when he picked me up. They only know that magic was performed around this house." Harry was not as upset as he thought he would be; he knew they could straighten it out with the Ministry.

"That's what they did to Dad, when we took the flying car," Ron said. "It drove Mum raving, because Dad actually enjoyed living without magic, like a muggle

"Give me that," Hermione took the letter and read it with a look of indignation. She then promptly flipped it over, put it on the end table, grabbed a pen that was sitting on the end table, and started writing. "This feels weird," She murmured.

"What, actually voluntarily sending a letter to the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"No, using a pen," Hermione said.

The owl stirred in Harry's lap, and hopped up, puffing its feathers defensively. _If Hedwig was here, she would have given this guy a nasty look about now, _Harry thought. As it was, Hedwig was out in the Granger's car with the luggage. The owl spread its wings, ready to leave. "Hold on, boy, we have another letter to send back with you," Harry said, stroking the owl's back. The owl gave a loud hoot and flew across to the end table where Hermione was writing. He stood there with his head cocked, looking very dignified. Harry sighed. _Even the Ministry _owls_ are pompous._

Hermione finished her letter, tied it to the owl's leg, and sent it off. "That should do it."

"What did you write?" Ron asked, while Vernon continued his spiel.

"I just told them that it was me who did the charm, it was in self-defense, and that Harry would have two fully qualified wizards staying with him for the next week or so."

"-BLOODY FREAKS!" Vernon finished. He stood there in front of Harry, who had ignored him entirely. His face was now its lovely shade of purple, which was fairly common anymore. He didn't seem to have heard Hermione's last comment.

"Did you hear that, Uncle Vernon?" asked Harry. "These two will be staying here for the next week. Then, them, and I, will leave and you'll never have to see us again."

Vernon stood, his mouth agape. He seemed to be torn between anger that Harry was telling _him_ what to do, in _his _house, and joy that Harry, and the wizarding world, would be gone forever in a week, never to bother him again. Finally, anger seemed to win. "YOU'LL NOT BE KEEPING ANYONE HERE, YOU UNDERSTAND ME, BOY! YOU'LL… YOU'LL…" Then his eyes settled on Hermione. "I'LL NOT HAVE YOU LOT BREEDING UP THERE IN THAT ROOM!"

Everyone moved at once, except Hermione, who sat there, eyes wide open in shock. Mrs. Granger had to hold her husband back, who was lunging at Vernon. Harry got to his feet, and was about to speak, when Ron pushed past him, drew back his fist, and before anyone could stop him, punched Vernon squarely in the eye. Vernon fell back with a yell, and landed on his bottom on the floor. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU PEOPLE THINK YOU ARE, TO COME INTO _MY_ HOME, TELL ME WHAT TO DO, AND THEN ATTACK ME WHEN I SAY I DON'T WANT YOU FREAKS STAYING HERE!"

Hermione gasped, and stared at Ron. Mr. Granger stopped struggling, but Mrs. Granger was looking between Ron and Hermione, with an intrigued look on her face. She didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the fight. Harry caught her eye, and just shrugged, rolling his eyes slightly. He moved up to stand next to Ron, who was standing over Vernon, massaging his knuckles. "One week is all. We'll stay out of your way, as long as you stay out of ours, I promise. I'm not asking, I'm telling you, they will stay with me." Then he turned away and started towards the door. "Come, on, let's get our stuff. Hermione got to her feet, with a sniff, and followed him out. Mr. Granger got up with a disdainful look at Vernon, and walked out with Ron right after him. Mrs. Granger was last to leave, and stopped at the door. She looked back at Vernon, who was still sitting on the floor with a look of pity and sadness. Then, she turned and followed the rest of them out.

Harry got to the car first, opened the door, and started pulling trunks and cages out. Ron was glaring back at the house, muttering about Vernon and what hexes would be good to try out. Hermione was still looking very upset, but seemed to take comfort in Ron's desire to test the Deadly Diarrhea Curse, a new invention of Fred and George's. "Oh, Ron, stop it. Honestly, it wasn't that bad," She said.

Ron stared incredulously. "Wasn't that bad? Wasn't that BAD! He said we were going to be – you know – " He sputtered for a moment.

Hermione just sighed. "He's just an fool who hates anything that's not like him."

Harry spoke up. "That's true. He doesn't know much of anything about the wizarding world, and thinks we're all just a bunch of backwoods barbarians, waving wands and chanting while doing tribal dances naked."

Ron and Hermione stared at him for a moment, their anger at Harry's uncle momentarily put aside. "What?" They both asked.

Harry shrugged. "What? He said that to me once," he said defensively. The other two kept staring. "Oh, shut up," He threw Crookshanks's crate at them, causing the ginger cat inside to yowl madly.

The three of them grabbed their trunks, and started hauling them towards the house. Mr. and Mrs. Granger each grabbed an additional bag. Harry looked at them questioningly. Hermione just grinned. "Later," she said. They carried their luggage inside, although Hermione had quite some difficulty carrying both her huge trunk and huge cat carrier. Once they were inside, and shut the door, she turned to Ron. "Can you levitate my trunk upstairs? I can't do it and carry Crookshanks at the same time, and he hates being levitated," she asked.

"Okay," Ron said, and started to levitate the two trunks up the steps.

"Hey, what about me?" Harry asked jokingly.

"Carry your own, it builds character," he said, echoing Fred and George from the previous Christmas.

"Oh, come on," Harry said. Ron was now at the top of the stairs.

"Alright then," he said.

Ron pointed his wand down at Harry's trunk, and said, _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

A small ball of light flew from his wand at Harry's trunk, but narrowly missed and hit Harry's leg instead. The last thing Harry remembered was the ceiling suddenly being very close, and then everything was black.

_"Ennervate,"_ Harry heard, and woke up lying on his bed to see Hermione standing over him. She smiled, and then backed up. Harry sat up and rubbed his head, where a sore spot was forming. Ron was sitting in the chair by the desk, and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing by the door, looking apprehensive. The owl's cages were open, and Crookshanks was out, sniffing around the room. Hermione looked at him. "Don't worry, you were only out for about two minutes," she said.

Harry rubbed his head again. "What happened?"

"I missed," said Ron sheepishly.

"But why did it send me flying?" Harry asked. It was just a levitating charm, not a – a banishing charm, or anything like that."

"Harry, don't you remember anything from first year?" Hermione sighed. "The charm Ron used is for objects, there's a separate spell for people. Use _Wingardium Leviosa _on a person, and, well…" She motioned to Harry's head.

Harry looked at Ron. "Work on your aim!"

"Oh, shut up, you can't honestly say that was that bad, considering all the other hits you've taken, and not whined about!" Ron said good-naturedly.

The tawny Ministry owl chose that moment to return, swooping down through the open window, and straight into Harry's head. "Owww!" he yelled, rubbing the spot where it hit. The owl jumped up and twittered angrily, probably from being injured two times at the same house.

Ron, Hermione, and even the Grangers started cracking up at the timing of the owl.

"Speaking of hits," Mr. Granger said, laughing. The owl stuck out its leg, which had a fresh letter attached, and turned its head away. Harry took the letter off, and the owl flew over to a shelf where it perched, preening its feathers. Harry thought it looked like it was trying to restore some dignity, but the effect was ruined when Hedwig flew at it angrily, squawking. The other owl quickly flew away, and out the window, hitting its wing on the frame as it left. Hedwig then took the tawny owl's spot on the shelf, and began preening herself also. Harry gave a small laugh at this, and then turned his attention to the envelope. It was then he noticed for the first time what it said.

_Miss Hermione Granger_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging, Surrey_

"Oh," he said. "It's for you." He tossed it at Hermione. She caught it, and opened it. As soon as she made the first rip, a yellow light shot out at her, and hit her in the chest.

"Hermione!" Her mother screamed. Hermione, however, stood there quite unaffected. She paused then looked down at the envelope, a suspicious look on her face.

"I wouldn't open that if I were you, Hermione," said Ron. "It might do more, and we don't know what that was."

"It's from the Ministry, they don't mean us any harm," she said. Harry snorted, and  
Hermione gave him a patronizing look. "Just because they're a bunch of idiots, that doesn't make them Death Eaters."

"I'm more scared of the idiots than the Death Eaters," Harry said.

"Are you sure its from the Ministry?" Ron asked. "Was it the same owl?"

"Same bad aim," Mr. Granger said with a smirk at Harry. Mrs. Granger, however, still seemed worried about what had happened to Hermione.

"I don't think it's safe," she said simply.

"Angela, honey, I'm sure it's just a letter."

"Then what was that light!"

While her parents argued, Hermione went ahead and opened the letter. She read it, and her mouth opened in wild indignation. "What!"

Her parents stopped their bickering, which Harry though had sounded rather like Ron and Hermione, and both said simultaneously, "What?"

She handed Harry the letter. "Well, they scrapped your punishment," she said.

Harry took the letter and read aloud:

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic_

_London_

_Miss Granger,_

_In reply to your letter regarding the incident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Mr. Potter's punishment is hereby rescinded. It is instead placed upon you, effective immediately. A tracking charm was contained in this envelope, which I'm sure you noticed. We have obtained a blueprint of Number Four, Privet Drive, and will be following your movements for the next month. The Immobilizing Charm may have been used in self-defense, but it was still in plain view of the muggle street. Surely you could have devised a thoroughly non-magical method of dealing with the situation._

_In regards to you and your companion living with Mr. Potter in his home for one week, I'm afraid that time will have to be extended to the duration of your sentence. You are essentially under house arrest._

_Sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

As soon as he finished reading this, everyone erupted in annoyance.

"How can they do this, it was self-defense-"

"What kind of idiot-"

"Will this go on your record?-"

"We have to stay here for a full MONTH!"

The last one was Harry, for he had been anxiously awaiting for sixteen years the day he could leave the Dursleys behind him forever, and now that that day would take even the slightest bit longer, he found himself wanting to find Mafalda Hopkirk and perhaps trying out Fred and George's Volatile Vomit hex. _That would show her what Improper Use of Magic _really_ is, _he thought.

"Non-magical garbage, he was going to kill you! What kind of idiots are running this place?" Mr. Granger asked angrily.

"We've been trying to figure that out for a while, Mr. Granger," Ron said. "That's just not right, Hermione, you didn't do anything to be punished for. You saved me from getting my head bashed in, you should get a medal! Instead, they're not letting you use magic."

"And not letting us leave," Harry said. Hermione stared at him with an astonished look on her face.

"Did you notice that I can't do magic now? Or were you too busy fretting over having to stay with your relatives for a little longer?" She wasn't too pleased with Harry's lack of sympathy, for she had expressed plenty when it had been _him_ in that position.

Harry sighed guiltily. "I'm sorry, Hermione, it's just – well – you'll see, after three days with the Dursleys you'll want to leave too."

Hermione sniffed at him, and turned back to her parents. "Thanks for driving us here, I think we're okay now."

Mr. Granger gave her a quick hug, said goodbye, and walked out. Mrs. Granger did the same, but whispered something that made Hermione blush, and go, _"Mum!"_ Mrs. Granger smiled, said goodbye to Harry and Ron, and followed her husband out the door.

The door shut, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were left alone. "Well, Ron, I think you and Hermione are going to need a place to sleep," Harry said. "The floor _is_ pretty uncomfortable."

"Right," Ron said, but didn't move. He just stood there, looking between the two of them. He obviously didn't get what Harry was telling him.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione said. She pulled his wand out of his pocket, and put it in his hand. "He means, make beds. You're the only one who can, now."

"Oh, right," Ron said, catching on, while Hermione rolled her eyes. _"Conjurus Camp Beds!"_ he said, and one very wide cot appeared.

Hermione turned back to him. "We _might_ need two," she said sarcastically.

"Right," said Ron again. "I don't really want to sleep with you."

There was an awkward silence following this pronouncement, where Ron turned more red than Harry had ever seen him. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Harry slapped his forehead, laughing silently. _Ron, you great stupid prat, think about what you say!_

"W-What I meant was – " Ron started.

"I know what you meant," Hermione said, still staring at him with a slightly amused look on her face. They looked at each other for a moment, then Hermione suddenly turned away and walked to her trunk. Ron looked like he wanted to stick his head in the wall, but Harry thought he saw a small smile on Hermione's face as she opened her trunk.

He sighed. _They really need to do something about this…_

After Ron succeeded in making two smaller beds, and they had gotten themselves unpacked, Hermione opened the two bags her parents had brought her, which contained, to no one's surprise, books. There were books about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Occlumency, Legilimency, and many others. "I figure," she said, "If we're not going back to Hogwarts, we have to learn somehow. I ordered these before you ever said you weren't returning just for some enrichment -"

"Enrichment!" Ron interrupted.

"- But we all could use it," Hermione finished.

There was a hoot from outside, and they all turned to see another owl flying at them very fast. Harry quickly jumped out of the way, but this one landed gracefully on the windowsill, and held out its leg. Harry pulled off the letter, and the owl took off.

"Not another Ministry owl, is it? I'm of age, I'm allowed to make camp beds," Ron said, blushing again slightly.

"No, it's from Lupin," Harry said, frowning. He read the letter aloud.

_Dear H (and H and R),_

_We still have to talk in code names, so make due the best you can. I heard it from Crazy-Ear and Royal that H and R were staying with you this summer, and I just want to say that this is a good idea. I'm always worried about you doing something rash, even more so now that Agnes Dinkle's gone, and I know that they'll talk some sense into you if you do decide to do something. I know it sounds harsh, and I'm sorry, but there's no other way to put it, I know it's hard, losing Snuffles and Dinkle just a year apart. I know exactly how you feel, they meant just as much to me as they did to you. I'm not with the werewolves anymore. There was a large fight last night (full moon), and several werewolves were killed, and some mangled beyond recognition. I escaped in the fray, so hopefully they'll think I'm one of the bodies. I'm at headquarters now, fulltime. I expect soon I'll know how Snuffles felt. If you need to tell us anything, or if you just need to talk, you can just owl me._

_Moony_

_P.S.: I know my names are bad, but I was never good at this whole covertness thing._

Harry smiled, and laughed at the names Lupin had come up with, which were indeed very bad: It was painstakingly obvious who Lupin was talking about, although he had come up with a good name for Kingsley. He wondered what Dumbledore would have thought about being referred to as Agnes Dinkle, and that just made the truth that much harder. He pushed that thought aside, however, and said sarcastically, "Come on, let's go downstairs and tell my uncle the good news about us staying here."

Ron and Hermione laughed, and walked out and down the stairs with Harry. When they got to the living room, they saw that Petunia was home, and was staring in horror at Vernon, whose eye was turning a dark purple. Vernon had apparently told her about their conversation, because she turned to them, and said, "One week, and then you're out of this house for good."

Harry smiled. "Actually, Aunt Petunia, we'll be here for a full month. House arrest, you see. So, we'll be here to keep you company for even longer." And, savoring the horror-struck looks on his aunt and uncle's faces, he turned and went back up the stairs laughing, with Ron and Hermione in tow. _Maybe the next month won't be that bad, after all._

44 


End file.
